Only a Grayson
by Lennox13
Summary: Because only a Grayson could fly like that.


**Excuse any inconsistencies concerning the timeline, characters, lore, universe or otherwise. This was just something I've been wanting to write for six years now. **

* * *

When Jane sees the footage of the colourful debut of Gotham's new hero, his heart stutters.

Those flips, those swings… Even that smile. And when the camera zooms in on the dark Bat and his new partner, smiling and waving at the crowd whilst his mentor glares, Jane can imagine, can almost see, the blue-blue-blue of the boy's eyes.

Because only a Grayson could fly like that.

* * *

He had only briefly met Mary's new baby before he'd left the circus but he could still remember the babe's large eyes, the dimple in his left cheek and the way those fat, pudgy fingers clutched at his pinkie with surprising strength.

"Oh, he's gorgeous, Mary!" Jane had enthused, cooing at the small shape. "He's going to be a heartbreaker, for sure."

"Is that a prediction?" his friend had asked, mirth in her voice and in her eyes.

"Nah," Jane had laughed. "Just one of those things people say. But he's going to do great things – he's going to fly."

Jane had winked at Mary and John, who proudly stared down at the newest addition to their family.

"But of course!" John had boomed, never one to be quiet. The baby started slightly but settled down just as quickly. Already baby-Richard knew the sound of his daddy's voice.

"He's a Grayson, after all."

* * *

Jane marvels at the news, re-watching the snippet of action footage caught on camera on loop. He wants to be sure, but already he is sure.

Because only a Grayson could fly like that.

So, he asks Cho to look up the Flying Grayson's because why would their youngest son be using the antennae of Gotham skyscrapers to soar when he could be spinning from a trapeze?

"They fell," Cho tells him and says a few other things, but Jane can't hear beyond the ceaseless buzzing inside of his head. He hums at Cho as if he listens, as if he hears.

"The youngest survived?" he asks, knowing it to be true because only a Grayson could fly like that.

He's in the middle of a case, though, and Red John still haunts his nightmares, his dreams, and his every waking moment. But every night he watches the news and hopes that the heroic little Grayson would stay safe.

He doesn't quite understand why the boy, Richard, is running around the streets of Gotham. He has suspicions and ideas and logical deductions, of course, and once he asks Cho again for the police reports and looks up what had happened on the night the Grayson's fell, he knows for sure. It's still only a guess, really, but Jane is rarely wrong.

They hadn't just fallen. Graysons didn't just fall.

They were _felled_.

And when he hears about the man who had taken Richard in as his ward, Jane knows the why too.

* * *

"I won't be in for a few days," Lisbon tells him one day, and he cracks open an eye to cock an eyebrow at her in question. "I was asked to consult at another department."

She sighs and the slight purse of her lips tells him more than she could ever tell him aloud_. _

_Well, not without losing her reputation as their fearless leader_, he thinks with a twinkle in his eyes.

He sits up and fixes his jacket. She raises her own brow and he allows a grin to bloom at the realisation that they communicate so well with just their eyebrows. He also sees the softening around her eyes, and he knows she is relieved by his silent offer, no, insistence, to come with.

"Let's go," she tells him, and they are going before she even tells him where.

"There's some psycho in Gotham. Commissioner Gordon has asked for an assist." She reaches back with one arm to retrieve the manilla folder from the backseat. She never once takes her eyes off the road.

The folder isn't much, information wise. Instead, it is thick with pictures and reports of massacres and killing sprees. Apparently, this 'Joker' was new to Gotham City, and apparently, he was a serial mass-murderer. One of the latest reports, about a bank robbery that had left thirteen dead, also includes a quote from Batman: '_He [the Joker] stabbed himself and laughed it off_.'

Wait, _Batman_?

Jane frowns as the puzzle pieces click. He nearly forgot that Gotham City was the new home for the Grayson child. He feels apprehensive. He knows it's not his place. He'd abandoned his circus family a long time ago, so he has no right to care. Does he?

* * *

It's a Saturday. But crime never sleeps, so the precinct is bustling with people and loud enough for Jane to easily slip away as soon as they arrive. He might feel a bit guilty for leaving Lisbon to fend for herself, but he knows that he has a few hours of official mumbo-jumbo before they would jump to the true crux of matters.

A sad-looking taxi, more grey than yellow, takes him to Wayne Manor without asking for an address.

The house is… impressive. Impressive and intimidating and cold. Jane shivers slightly, both because Gotham winters are bone-cutting and because the mansion fills him with a sense of foreboding.

Using his CBI consultant badge at the door, he allows himself to be led to the formal front living room – the receiving room. The man, with grey hair and too-awake eyes, asks him to have a seat and wait a moment whilst he fetches the _masters_. Jane grins. Rich people, right?

He doesn't sit down and waits impatiently for the nearing footsteps that never come. Mr Wayne, Bruce, simply appears and Jane smiles brightly to cover his own trepidation. "Actually, I'm here to see Richard Grayson." And the little boy, lithe and long-limbed, darts from behind the imposing figure of his guardian.

And Jane wants to cry. Because he misses his friends and he sees Mary in the boy's elfin features and the sharpness of his jaw, and he sees John in the shape of the boy's eyes and the mischievous pull at the corner of his mouth.

He regrets never saying goodbye.

Jane crouches down and smiles. "Hi there, Baby Bird," he says and watches the boy's blue-blue-blue eyes – Mary's eyes – widen with surprise. He notices how the man standing at the boy's back stiffens and how the amiable open smile of Bruce Wayne shutters into something else.

"Don't worry. I won't tell," he reassures them. "I just wanted to see if you're alright." He directs the question at the boy.

John's son looks up at his guardian seeking permission, perhaps, or assurance.

A nod.

Mary's son looks back at Jane, and with just the right amount of suspicion in his gaze, asks, "Who are you?"

"Patrick Jane," he says. "I knew your parents; used to work with them," he explains.

There is another question quickly jumping to the boy's lips and Jane already knows what it will be.

So, he clenches his fists to resist the urge to hug the baby Robin close and he indulges in weakness as he allows tears to brim.

"How?" he echoes. "Because only a Grayson could fly like that."


End file.
